Concerning Nifflers
by Naiva
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione head to Godric's Hollow to begin their quest, but things become more complicated when Ron is turned into a niffler and they can not figure out how to change him back. Ch.3: Harry finds a guide, a friend, and an enemy.
1. Ch1 in which Ron Becomes a Niffler

Concerning Nifflers

For my cousin

Ch.1

In Which Ron Becomes a Niffler

۝۝

Wormtail ran his silver fingers along his broken wand as though that would mend it. He was sitting, cold and shivering, in the snow. It was impossible; he could not believe his misfortune. But, he could not return without it. Looking up at the sky he shivered, but not from the snow. Such an important mission should have been given to Snape and he knew it. Why had he begged so much to take it? He began to cry. Wormtail knew that he would have to find it, wherever it was now.

Hermione sat with her quill poised above the parchment, but could not find any words to write. Outside the abandoned ice cream parlor of Florean Fortescue the sun shone brightly and the familiar scents of Diagon Ally drifted by, but there was tension in the air. Less shoppers than usual were perusing the stores and those who were moved in tight groups. They only stopped for what they needed before bustling on again. Nobody wanted to be caught outside alone so late in the afternoon.

Looking up, Hermione wondered where Harry and Ron might be. They had agreed to meet in Diagon Ally on the first of August, but she had been sitting there for hours without any sign of them. She was not worried about Ron, she expected him to be late, but her concern for Harry was written all over her face.

Just as she was thinking that she would look for them in Quality Quidditch Supplies, she spotted Ron walking uneasily toward her.

"There you are," she called and waved.

Ron waved back and in a moment he was sitting beside her at the small table. He looked around, "Not very cheerful around here is it?"

"Well what did you expect, Ron? Everyone's scared these days now that Dumbledore…" she swallowed the rest of her sentence.

"No, I meant your choice of table." He was resolutely trying not to look behind him at the boarded up windows. "How long have you been sitting here, anyway? You could have just gone to Fred and George's place."

"Is Harry there?" she asked anxiously.

"No," replied Ron shortly, "He sent an owl saying that he had to take care of something before he came to meet us."

Hermione's stomach tightened, "By himself?"

Ron glanced at her, "I don't like it either, but he's an adult now, you know. He can take care of himself."

"Does he even have a plan of how we're going to find these horcruxes?"

"I don't know," said Ron, "I think that's why he wants to go to his parent's old house, to get some ideas of where to start." Hoping to change the subject, he glanced at the quill and parchment in Hermione's lap, "What are you writing?"

"Just a letter," she answered evasively.

"Writing another letter to dear Vicky, no doubt." Ron's tone turned sour immediately.

"If you must know," she said huffily, "I am writing a letter to _Victor_ to thank him for the lovely birthday gift."

She reached up and took from her hair a gorgeous sapphire clip. Ron tried very hard to hide his astonishment as it glinted mysteriously in the light of the setting sun. His ears turned red with the effort.

"It's nice." he managed to mumble.

Hermione admired it for a while longer before putting it back into the thick nest of her bushy brown hair where it continued to sparkle. Ron clenched his teeth so firmly together that his jaw muscle twitched. Then he opened it again, "And how is dear Vicky?" he asked, "Still happy being your pen pal?"

Feeling anger rising in her, Hermione knew exactly what to say, "And how is Lavender?" she asked blithely; then she added the venomous words, "Rony-poo?"

Ron's whole face went bright red. He reached up and covered his head with his large hands as though he expected Lavender to came swooping in instantly, riding a flock of yellow canaries. He tried to think of something scathing to say, but failed.

Luckily, at that moment Hermione saw a familiar face up the ally and beamed. "Harry!" she yelled, "We were getting worried."

She and Ron looked at each other, and in that glance there was a silent agreement to get along for Harry's sake.

"Sorry," Harry said as he came up behind Ron. He looked exhausted. There were bags under his eyes and his hair, which normally stood up noticeably in the back, was drooping, but there was a smile on his face. "I had to take care of Kreature."

"Oh that's what you were doing," said Ron.

Hermione's shoulders relaxed, "Oh good," she said, "I was afraid that you might be doing something…dangerous."

"Dangerous? Well, you know Kreature." he said.

"You are being nice to him, aren't you?" she asked suspiciously.

"As always," he smiled, but at the look on Hermione's face he added, "I've left him with Hagrid and Madame Maxime in Paris."

"It's getting dark," said Ron, looking around at the almost deserted ally, "C'mon, let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps."

Not only was it getting darker as the sun disappeared behind the many buildings, but a strange fog was beginning to roll through the street. It was an eerie, chilling fog that reminded them all forcibly of dementors. All around them, store keepers were closing up warily for the night.

Harry looked at his watch, "It's only four thirty." He said grimly.

"Exactly," said Ron, standing up to lead the way down the street. "Fred and George want us to stop by. They said we'd better come if we don't want sneezing powder in the next letter we open."

Hermione stood up and raised her eyebrows at Harry, "I wouldn't put it past them." She said.

So, the three walked on through the darkening ally until they turned a corner and came in sight of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. As they drew closer to the shop, Harry noticed something peculiar in the doorway. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to it.

"What's what?" asked Ron.

"That, in the doorway, what is it?"

Light form the street lamp flooded the entrance to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and the three of them could just make out something pink and fluffy on the ground. When they approached it cautiously and saw what it was, Hermione laughed.

"It's just a little pink flamingo." she said.

Sure enough, sitting on the ground in front of them was a plushy pink flamingo doll. It had little black bead eyes in its stuffed head and a yellow beak that curved out towards the street. Its long and puffy black legs stuck out from under it awkwardly. It was certainly very cute.

"Be careful," warned Ron, "We don't know what it might do."

"Oh, Ron, it's just a stuffed animal." said Hermione.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood around it in a circle, looking down at the curious thing. They did this for several moments before Ron reached back and picked up a rake that was leaning on the wall behind him. "Alright," he said, "stand back."

With his wand in one hand and the rake in the other, Ron eased the rake vigilantly towards the plushy pink flamingo and finally made contact. He winced and jumped back as though expecting it to explode…but it did not. In fact, it did not do anything.

Ron poked the flamingo again. It fell over with a pathetic squeak.

"Be careful around that!" said a voice from inside the shop. It was George. He came out to greet them with his twin, Fred, closely behind him.

"We haven't quite worked out all the kinks yet." said Fred.

Harry smiled at them, trying not to laugh. "Ron thought it might be dangerous."

"Oh, it is!" said George seriously.

"What is it?" Ron asked his brothers suspiciously, setting the rake down, but making sure to keep it in reach. He had had too many experiences with Fred's and George's experiments.

"It's our security system!" Fred said brightly.

"State of the art!" said George, "We invented it ourselves."

Hermione did not bother to hide her amusement. She knelt down to look at it, giggling, "Not a very good system," she remarked, "It doesn't seem to work very well."

"What a naïve young lady." said Fred, shaking his head.

"We thought you knew us better!" said George.

"Tell me then," said Hermione, "How it's supposed to keep out death-eaters when common gardening tools can defeat it."

"Contrary to your belief, it's in perfect working order." said Fred.

"If a death-eater had tried what you just did, Ron…" George smiled, "Well, let's just say they'd have a hard time getting into our shop."

"A death-eater…or Percy." said Fred smiling back at his twin.

"Oh dear," said Hermione, backing away from the flamingo, "You two are the only people I know who can take something innocent and fluffy and make it dangerous."

"Innocent and fluffy things are dangerous by nature, Hermione." said George.

"Especially if they're pink!" said Fred.

"Anyway, we wanted you lot to come by so that we could give you something." George said, gesturing them to enter and pulling out three identical glass balls.

He handed one to each of them. "Now, if you ever get lost, just swallow it." He said.

"Swallow it?" asked Hermione, examining it.

"Yup," said Fred, "Just swallow it and think of where you want to head and it'll lead you there."

"Thanks," said Harry, pocketing it carefully.

"We heard that you and Ron couldn't disparate yet." said George, "Tough luck mates."

"Oh, and," said Fred apologetically, "Mum found out you were coming and, well, you know mum."

"Mrs. Weasley is here?" asked Harry, not sure weather he wanted to see her or not. He did not feel like being fussed over at the moment; not when he had so much ahead of him.

Behind him, Ron rolled his eyes, "Why?" he asked himself.

George answered, "Because she wants to make sure that her ickle-Roney-kins is going to be safe."

Harry's heart grew heavy.

"Now, George," said Fred to his brother in a patronizing way, "He's not ickle-Roney-kins anymore. He's an adult now."

"That's right!" said Ron grumpily.

"Now he's big-Roney-kins!" finished Fred.

Ron glared at them as they stepped into the back room where Molly Weasley was waiting. She was wringing her handkerchief anxiously and when they entered she dropped it to the floor.

"Oh Ron!" she yelled and held her son in an iron hug, "I know you didn't want me to bother you but…but…"

"Mum," said Ron, rolling his eyes again. But, he hugged his mother all the same. "It's alright."

Then she caught sight of Harry and threw herself on him. "I don't suppose I can convince you not to do this."

"No," said Harry, "It's just something that I have to do."

"Ron says that I can't even send owls to see how you're doing."

"That's best, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, in that case," said Molly, pulling away from Harry and wiping tears from her eyes, "I won't have you all getting cold when Christmas comes."

She reached into her bag and pulled out three sweaters, handing one to each of them. Ron, of course, was handed maroon, but he was resolved not to complain. "Promise me that you'll wear them."

"Of course." they all said.

۝۝

An hour later they were all standing outside the shop with their bags over their shoulders.

"Ready?" asked Harry.

Ron grumbled, "I'll never be ready for that bus."

Hermione shrugged and Harry stuck out his wand hand purposefully. There was a BANG and the familiar Knight Bus appeared. They stepped back and the door opened for them with the sound of steam escaping a tea kettle.

Nobody came out to greet them.

"I guess they never got a replacement for Stan." said Harry apprehensively.

Tentatively, the three of them stepped onto the silent and waiting bus. Beds lined the walls as usual, but there were no passengers in them. The bus seemed to be completely empty and it made them all nervous.

It was a moment before Hermione realized that she was clinging to Ron's arm and she let go quickly. "Hello?" she called.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Someone jumped from behind the front bed, waving their hands wildly! It was Ernie. He was pale and frightened, looking positively mad as he brandished a roll of salami at them.

"Who is that!" he yelled in a reedy voice. Then he blinked through his spectacles and lowered the salami, "Oh, it's you."

They were all startled by this bizarre greeting, but Harry was the first to recover. "Ernie," he said quietly, "What's wrong?"

"What were you going to do with that?" Ron pointed at the salami with wide eyes.

"I was going to hex you with it." sighed the old driver.

"With a salami?"

"No, with my wand," Ernie looked at the meat in his hand, just realizing that it was there, "Oh, wait, not that." He thrust the salami into Hermione's arms and dug around in the pockets of his shabby robes and finally pulled out his battered wand. "There it is."

"Has someone attacked you, Ernie?" asked Harry.

"What?" he asked, taking his place again behind the wheel, "Oh, no, I haven't been attacked yet."

At that moment he started the engine and the bus lurched forward with a bang. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were thrown backwards. Ron landed in the waste basket at the other end of the bus.

"As a matter of fact," said Ernie, "Nobody's been on the Knight Bus for weeks. Business has been bad."

"I can't imagine why," said Ron, trying to dislodge his back side from the small basket as the bus swayed.

"Ever since they took Stan...well, where to, then?" asked Ernie changing his sentance mid-way.

"Godric's Hollow," Harry replied, dragging himself onto a bed, "To a muggle inn, if you know any."

Ernie nodded and was silent for the rest of the trip, brushing off any comfort Harry would offer him.

Hermione struggled to help Ron and soon they were all balancing as best they could on a bed.

"Oh! Um…it's a bit late…but," said Ron, pulling a book titled _Magical Hiccups_ out of his bag and handing it to Hermione, "Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks Ron!" said Hermione, reading the back, "It looks really –." But, the bus lurched violently again and they were all tossed off the bed.

۝۝

It was late at night when Ernie dropped them off at a muggle inn. Harry had enough muggle money to get the three of them a room on the ground floor in the back after a furious argument with the inn keeper who had taken one look at their owls and said "NO PETS!". With Pigwidgen, Hedwig, and Crokshanks looking in through the sliding galss door it was a cozy place with only two rooms and a bathroom. But, it was all that they could afford and still have enough muggle money for later.

Once they were all settled, Hermione pulled out her letter to Krum and began to write in earnest.

Ron was stretched out on the sofa listening to the muggle radio play a song by an old jazz singer with a sleepy soothing voice. Harry had left the room to walk up the street and get them all some muffins at a bakery whose lights were still on. The scratching of Hermione's quill against the music was more than Ron could stand. 

"So," he said, "What are you telling Krum-cake?"

Hermione frowned, but did not look up, "I'm telling him what an insufferable bastard you are."

"Oh, well, that's nice," said Ron blithely, sitting up to look at her, "So what are you really writing?"

"What's it to you?"

"Only that it might be intercepted."

Hermione bit her lip, but still wouldn't look at Ron. "Well," she said carefully, "I plan to give it to him in person."

Ron frowned, "Really? Is he coming to England?"

"He might, I don't really know."

"Well then, we'll have to find out for sure so that we can all be ready for precious Vicky."

"That's it!" Hermione snapped, pulling out her wand, "If I hear you say Victor's name again, so help me, I will turn you into… into something more awful than you! It will be a challenge, but I like challenges."

Despite the weakness of her resolve, when Hermione threatens to transfigure someone, they do what she says if they like having thumbs. So Ron was forced to fold his arms and glare at the floor.

As Hermione resumed her scribbling, Harry entered the room with a bag of warm muffins. "Hey," he said, "What did I miss?"

"Nothing of consequence." said Hermione, determinedly not looking at Ron.

Harry handed her a muffin which she accepted gratefully. Then Harry gave one to Ron and sat down at the table with his own. "What are you writing, Hermione?"

"Oh, she's writing to…" Ron began, but a glare from Hermione made him redirect his sentence, "Well…you know who."

Harry coughed on his muffin and spluttered, "W-What!"

Hermione's cheeks were stuffed with muffin and she was unable to explain Ron's meaning. So Ron said, "No, not that you know who, the other one."

"There are two?" Harry blinked and felt stupid.

Hermione swallowed, "No!" she coughed, "I'm writing to Victor!"

"Oh," said Harry and then as comprehension further dawned on him, he said again, "_Oh_."

This put and awkward silence between the three of them. The jazz singer continued her up beat lullaby, but Hermione did not continue her letter. She rolled it up carefully and put it into her bag. Ron sat on the sofa glowering at his muffin before, pretending that it was Krum's head, taking a vicious bite out of it.

"So tomorrow we're going to find your old house?" Hermione inquired.

"Yes," replied Harry, "Or anything relating to my parents. It's not much, but it's a place to start."

There was more silence and Ron was just thinking that he was ready for bed when he heard something. It was sharp and sudden, like the cracking of a twig outside. It made him uneasy. "What was that?" he asked.

No sooner had the words left his mouth that there was an enormous crash outside their back door. All three of them leapt up and Ron moved over towards the door. Slowly he opened it and poked his head outside.

All was still and quiet. There was a short patio of concrete where two trash cans had been tipped over and after that was a small stretch of grass. Beyond that was a dense clump of trees and darkness.

"Hello?" he called into the darkness where silence answered him, "Who's there?"

"It's the pizza man," said Hermione brightly from inside, "Oh, Ron, don't be dense."

"The pizza man? Who?"

She pulled him away from the door, "It's either nothing or it's dangerous, both of which mean that we shouldn't leave the room."

"Hermione's right," said Harry, but Ron wasn't listening.

"I'm going to find out what that was!" he said, recklessly walking out the door.

"Ron, no!" hissed Hermione, "Get back here!"

But, Ron ignored her and disappeared into the trees. Harry made to follow after him, but Hermione held him back. "We don't know who's out there." she whispered.

"But Ron can't be out there alone."

"He's just being thick, Harry!"

"I agree with you there, but that still doesn't mean…" Harry never finished his sentence.

There was a flash of green light from the trees and they heard Ron yell. "Ron!" they both called, but Ron did not answer. Harry ran out to find him, but Hermione couldn't move.

She slumped down onto the floor and mumbled a faint, "Oh, no."

It seemed that an age had gone by before Harry returned to the room carrying something like a small porcupine in his arms. Hermione stood up, shaking, looking around behind Harry for any sign of Ron.

"Where is he?" she asked and then she saw that Harry was smiling. "What?"

Harry glanced down at the bundle he was carrying and so did she. "What are you doing with that niffler, Harry?" asked Hermione, confused.

"I found it next to Ron's wand." said Harry.

"You what? Well, what was it doing there? What does it matter, we need to find Ron!"

"Hermione," said Harry, laughing, "I think this thing _is_ Ron!"

The niffler grabbed Ron's wand from Harry's hand and struggled to get onto the table. Harry released it and it ran to the ink that Hermione had been using to write her letter. It dipped its spade-shaped paw into the ink carefully and then drew and uncertain wavy line on the wood of the table.

"Don't worry, Ron, Hermione can transfigure you back…I think." Harry looked at Hermione who had not taken her eyes off the niffler.

"Ron?" she asked.

Ron stared up at her and shook his quills crossly.

AN: My first attempt at humor. I 3 REVEIWS WITH ALL OF MY 3.


	2. Ch2 To Be a Niffler

disclaimer: i own nothing

AN: Thanks to those of you who have reveiwed my story so far. It is most encouraging!

Chapter 2  
To Be a Niffler

"Merlin's beard!" shrieked Hermione, "I don't understand!"

Through the course of the night and much of the following morning, Hermione had cursed every part of Merlin that she could think of in her frustration. This included such obscure parts as his wenis which, Harry was sharply informed, is the nerveless skin on the elbow.

"If I could just find something…somewhere…I'm not even sure what I'm looking for anymore, Ron." she said.

Ron, who had been quivering under the couch, poked his head out to try and give her a look that would say "It's all right, just calm down!" But he only managed to look frightened.

"Look, Hermione, you're frightening Ron." Harry quit his pacing to stoop down and pick up his transfigured friend. "Let's keep a cool head about this. Everything that had been transfigured can be reversed back to its original state, that's one of the first things we learned, right?"

"Yes," said Hermione, rubbing her temples. She was lying on her stomach with both elbows on the couch arm. Her carpet bag, which had been magically expanded to fit her large collection of books, was empty on the floor beside her. Its prior contents were strewn every where. Books coated the floor, filled the sink, and blocked the door, but not a single one of them had provided an answer to their problem.

Ron just could not be transfigured back!

Hermione had tried immensely to reverse the spell, but every attempt had absolutely no effect on him. She had looked up curses, jinxes, and reread every book she had on transfiguration and still could not find the counter curse.

After the first three tries she had placed down her wand and said, "See, Harry, this can't be Ron. First of all, it's basically impossible to change a person into an animal unless they take the potion to make them an animagus. Second of all, if he had been transfigured, then I should be able to transfigure him back and I haven't been able to do that. And third of all," she had said, picking up the niffler, "This thing is much too cute to be Ron."

However, after she lost three humiliating games of chess to the niffler, she was forced to believe that the thing really was Ron.

"Oh what are we going to do Harry!" she moaned into her hands, "We came here to find those horcruxes and I'm sure that we wont have too much time before the death eaters find out where you are. But, it seems now that they already know."

"You know," said Harry in an attempt to cheer her up, "I think that Ron's quills look a little redder than they were before, don't you?"

He was answered with the back of Hermione's head. She did not want him to see how unsettled she was. Not for the first time, her books and smarts had failed her.

"I think they already know, Hermione," he continued, sitting down beside her on the couch with Ron on his lap, "Or else Ron was in some kind of random freak accident."

Ron blinked his round black eyes at them. The truth was that he could not remember what had happened to him, but it did not matter any way because he could not talk.

Being a niffler, he had discovered, was harder than it looked. There were so many smells in the air and he wondered how he had never noticed them all when he was a boy. It felt awkward to think as a human, but see things in a completely different light. When he was Ron the human, he had never noticed how beautiful shiny things were. The way the lamplight sparkled, the way paperclips gleam like stars in a sky of carpet, the way Harry's glasses glinted, and the way Hermione's eyes twinkled when she was mad. Well, he had always noticed that, but he had never truly seen it. He felt strangely attracted to all of these things; he wanted to take them, to bury them, to hide them from everyone else. They were his.

Ron shook his quills, hoping that the niffler thoughts would be thrown out of his tiny ear. He looked over at the sliding glass door to see Crookshanks staring in at him unpleasantly, his bottle brush tail twitching in a conniving sort of way. Ron did not like it at all so he turned his snout to Hermione.

"Please," he pleaded with his eyes, "Do something about that crazy cat."

"It's alright, Ron," she patted his quills, "We'll get you back to normal sooner or later. Perhaps Professor Magonagall…"

Harry and Ron glanced at her and the three of them exchanged uncertain looks. They had spoken last with their old transfiguration teacher at Bill and Flur's wedding. Over cake, she had made it clear that she would be difficult to contact, but happy to help in case of an emergency.

Harry swallowed hard. Thinking of the wedding reminded him of Ginny and their last evening together. Her flaming red hair speckled with little jasmine flowers, the summer grass beneath them and the endless heaven above them momentarily intoxicated his mind.

"Do you think we should, Harry?" asked Hermione, cruelly wrenching him down to earth.

Fully recovered Harry replied, "Only as a last resort."

Ron thumped his feet nervously on Harry's legs. How long was he going to be stuck like this? And when would the incessant urge to dig ever end! He felt like he needed to find something desperately, but he was not quite sure what it was.

"As for the horcruxes," said Harry and it seemed that enormous weight had just fallen onto his shoulders, making them droop, "I'm sorry, Ron, but they can't wait. I need to do what I came here to do."

"We know, Harry," said Hermione gripping his shoulder "And we want to help you, you know that."

Harry looked at her apologetically, "I have an idea, but I know that you're going to hate it."

Hermione knew what was coming, but she was determined to smile and do it anyway, for Harry's sake, "What?"

"I could, you know, head out to see my parent's old house and their graves and you could…" he struggled to finish and Ron, who also sensed what Harry was going to say, clumsily waddled under the couch again, "well…stay here and try to, you know, get Ron back to normal. I don't like the idea of us splitting up, but that's all I can think to do."

Determined to be amiable, Hermione smiled over her indignant feelings and said, "You're probably right."

"I am?" asked Harry as Ron stuck his head out from under the couch. They had been expecting something along the lines of an explosion.

"Yes, I mean, it's not as though all of us have to go together and it's really a more personal thing for you. I understand why you would want to do this on your own. But," she said, standing up, "Don't think that we're going to let you find these horcruxes alone, right Ron?"

The little niffler trundled out to look at Harry and shake his quills in agreement.

"I know," said Harry, smiling, "You guys are the greatest."

Ron stuck out his nose to sniff them and smelled something strange, something that had not been there before. It was close by and getting closer, he knew it. Someone was standing in front of the door to their room.

A moment later there was a knock on their door and the three of them froze. Harry and Hermione looked at each other and Hermione scooped up Ron.

"We do not need our room to be cleaned today, thank you." she said.

There was a gruff grunt from the other side and a commanding voice boomed in on them, "I am not here to clean, I'm here to throw you out! What's the meaning of all this?"

"Oh God," hissed Harry, "It's that blasted innkeeper! What does he think we've done?"

Then he and Hermione looked down at Ron who was staring, utterly clueless, at the door with his doe-like black eyes. He blinked innocently and sniffed the air.

"We can't let him see Ron!" whispered Hermione, "He hate's animals!"

"Oh, it's worse than that, Hermione, a niffler is a magical creature! We'd be in so much trouble if a muggle saw him!"

The door knob turned, but the mound of books prevented it from opening. "Open this door immediately!"

"Haven't you ever heard of privacy?" Harry yelled back as he and Hermione ran around in circles, trying to find a place to hide Ron.

The three friends collided with each other and Ron fell to the floor with a thud where he ruffled his quills angrily and tapped the floor with his spade-shaped feet.

"Uh…just a second," said Hermione, rubbing her forehead.

Finally she opened the sliding glass door and pushed the unsuspecting niffler out with her foot, closing the door behind him. Ron rolled off the cement, passed Crookshanks, and skid on the unkempt grass.

He turned his snout back and tried to say "Hey!" but it only came out as a grunt reminiscent of a pig.

Hermione turned, not looking at Ron, to clear the books quickly with her wand. They half-heartedly toppled over. Harry tried to close the curtains to hide Ron from sight, but they would only close half way.

None the less, the both of them cried, "Come in!"

The door burst open, clearing the remaining books out of the way, and the innkeeper stepped in wearing a plaid shirt, brown pants, fuzzy bunny slippers and a frown. He had a big ruddy face that reminded Harry of his Uncle Vernon except that instead of a mustache, this man had a beard. He stared around the room with piggy eyes and sniffed with disapproval.

"This place is a pig sty," said the man, "What the hell have you been doing all night?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and said, "Nothing."

Outside, Ron was smarting with anger, but what was he going to do? Sit at the door and glare at them? Yes, that sounded good. Shaking his quills for the billionth time that morning, he turned around and found himself staring and the squashed and deviously fluffy face of Crookshanks. He gulped nervously and scampered for the door.

"Nothing?" the innkeeper smiled in a mean sort of way, "Well then, you wouldn't be able to explain the plague of frogs that some of my," he sniffed, "Better guests experienced last night?"

"Plague of frogs?" asked Hermione with false interest, "I'm sorry, but we haven't seen any frogs."

"Oh haven't you?"

"No, actually we haven't," said Harry, perturbed, "And what makes you think that we would have something to do with a plague of frogs?"

The innkeeper snorted, "Oh come now."

There was a small thump against the glass door and Hermione turned around quickly to see Ron there, scrabbling at it. She gasped and backed up quickly to hide him with her legs.

"What's that?" asked the innkeeper suspiciously, trying to see around Hermione's legs.

"Nothing, nothing at all," said Hermione in a very unconvincing way. Harry covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head. "So…" she continued weakly, "So, you say you've been having some frog trouble?"

"More than trouble, missy," said the innkeeper, pointing a pudgy finger at her, "A plague and I know that you let them loose!"

"What?"

"We did nothing of the sort," said Hermione.

Outside, Ron was having troubles of is own. "Nice kitty," he tried to signal Crookshanks with a look, "It's me, Ron, remember?" But, he must have just looked like lunch because Crookshanks' bow legs were getting reading to spring.

Ron looked around and the urge to dig grew stronger until he knew that he would have to give into it at last. He stretched out his paws and, with a speed that he never knew he possessed, dug deep into the earth. Crookshanks, who had realized too late what Ron was going to do, pounced for the little niffler. However, Ron had vanished and in his place was a hole in the ground. The ginger cat yowled as it sank, squashed face first, into the burrow.

"I know rotten animal lovers when I see em'!" said the innkeeper, "You nutters are all the same! Tailing around owls and cats and ruddy frogs!"

"We had nothing to do with you're frog problem!" said Harry, "You're accusations are ridiculous!"

They heard Crookshanks mewing and the three of them gazed out the door, Harry and Hermione trying to hide the spectacle from the innkeeper without success. It looked as though the cat was growing out of the ground! His bow legs and bottle brush tail were flailing wildly as he attempted to scramble out of Ron's trap.

The innkeeper was laughing heartily. "I've never seen cat tails grow that way!" he spluttered between guffaws.

As Harry turned angrily to the innkeeper, Hermione flung open the door and yelled "Oh, Crookshanks!" But, the cat had already freed himself and hissed at her, running off into the trees.

Underground, Ron had no idea what was taking place above his head, nor did it matter to him. He had never felt so safe and sound before. Beneath the earth, that was where he was meant to be. He loved the damp smell, the cozy feel, the softness, the coolness, and the promise of uncovering secret and shiny things! A burrow was the only place to live.

_The Burrow, _thought Ron, _The Burrow? That's where I live! My real home! Ron, you're a human remember?_

The feeling that he belonged there under ground disappeared to be replaced by panic and a need for fresh air. He began to burrow up.

"Hey, now," said the innkeeper, recovering and looking around, "Wasn't there another one of you?"

"Another one?" asked Harry, testily. He did not like this innkeeper at all and wished that there was another inn in Godric's Hollow.

"Yeah, the tall one with red hair."

"Oh," said Harry, "He's left. But, he'll be back."

The innkeeper sniffed distrustfully, "Not, by any chance, off to market to get some more frogs to set loose?" he asked.

"Listen," Harry snapped, "I paid good money for this room and when I paid I expected that my right to privacy would be respected. Now, unless you're willing to give me my money back, I suggest you get out of my room!"

The innkeeper's face became a blotchy red color and he leaned over to look Harry in the face. "You might have paid for this room, boy," he said, "But, this is my inn and I'm not about to let some animal loving freaks destroy it! Now, if anything else happens; if I so much as catch a whiff of anything funny going on in my inn, I'll know exactly where to go. Is that clear?"

Harry did not answer. He wanted desperately to hit the man, but held it back. They needed the room. They had no where else to go.

At last, the innkeeper turned around and left, leaving Harry to shut the door behind him.

"What a mess." Harry said, stepping outside where Hermione was trying to coax Crookshanks over to her.

"Come here, Crookshanks, I'm sorry that happened to you, I won't let it happen again!"

But, Crookshanks was having none of it! He turned his bottle brush tail to Hermione and dashed off into the thicket of trees.

"Oh, come back!" she called, chasing after him and it was at that precise moment that Ron had decided to come out.

Harry saw Ron's head emerge from the ground in front of Hermione. He ran forward and yelled, "Look out!" but it was too late. Hermione tripped over Ron and then Harry tripped over Hermione, landing on top of her.

"Ouch!"

Completely unharmed, Ron popped out of his burrow and shook the dirt from his quills. He looked over to see Harry and Hermione splayed and aching on the ground and felt satisfied. The vindicated niffler waddled over to them and the three of them went back inside, Ron sniggering silently.

"That was close." said Harry.

"Oh, Ron, what were you thinking?" asked Hermione who was very upset about her cat.

Ron glared at her as best he could. It was not his fault! She was the one who had shoved him outside to face that monstrosity of a pet. And all these years he thought that he and Crookshanks had an understanding; you think you know a cat. He was the victim here!

"That horrible innkeeper!" Hermione exclaimed, "Laughing like that! And what was all that crap about us letting in frogs."

"I don't know," said Harry, dusting himself off, "But, I do know that we don't have time for this."

"You're right," she said, taking Ron in her arms and sitting down on the couch, "You'd best get going."

"About what I said earlier," said Harry, slipping on a light jacket, "Hermione, it was a stupid idea, we can't split up. What if…"

"What if it starts raining chickens, Harry?" she interrupted, "Someone should be trying to change Ron back so don't you worry about it! I'm sure that there must be something in one of these books."

"Alright," he said tentatively, "But I'll be back before dark to tell you everything I find!"

"Great," said Hermione, "See you!"

"See you." Harry replied and left.

Hermione picked up the closest transfiguration book that she could find and began to read. Unconsciously, she started to stroke Ron's quills gently. He liked sitting there on her lap. It was quite comfortable and warm there. He curled up into a ball and thought that he might fall asleep listening to the sound of her heart beating steadily.

Her heart. He thought of Victor Krum and his beautiful gift and snarled quietly. It was such a shiny gift. He wanted nothing more than to take it away from her and burry it under the soft sweet earth so they would never see it gleam again.


	3. Ch3 Welcome to Godric's Hollow

AN: PLEASE REVIEW!

Ch. 3  
Welcome to Godric's Hollow

While Ron and Hermione were having a quiet afternoon looking through books, Harry was experiencing the complete opposite. No sooner had he stepped out of the inn and down the street (avoiding the suspicious glare of the innkeeper) that he found himself being mauled by a slender cane. He pulled out his wand quickly and turned around to face his attacker. But, there was only a crazed muggle woman standing there in the middle of her barren front yard.

"Get off o' my cabbages!" she yelled, brandishing her walking stick, "You're standing on me prized cabbages!"

"What?" Harry looked down at his feet, but all that he saw under them was dirt. "But, I don't see…"

"Blind!" shouted the woman, "You be blind, they my cabbages!" And she hit him viciously in the shins with her walking stick.

Harry toppled backward and tripped over a huge pig that had been standing directly behind him. As he went down his elbow hit the woman's limestone bird bath and that fell over too.

"Ouch, lady, all right all right!" he held up his hands and backed away from the woman.

Her insane cries echoed after him as he turned the corner and ran, "Cabbage wrecker!"

Harry stopped running when he could no longer hear her to rub his aching shins. _What a crazy old bat, _he thought, _I hope the rest of the people here aren't as out of it as that!_

It was long past lunch time when Harry pulled out a sandwich Mrs. Weasley had given him the night before. It was delicious, although a little dry. He ate as he walked. He still had not found the graveyard or any sign of his parents' house and he had been searching all morning. He knew that he would have to find someone and ask them for directions or and map, but he had hardly come across anyone.

Looking around, Harry could not help but notice that the place felt a little "off" for a muggle village. There were not many cars on the street, for one thing, and the roads were dirt and not asphalt. As he walked he caught glimpses of restaurants and antique stores, but they were all empty and cheerless. One or two shoppers could be seen total on the whole street. Perhaps the people in Godric's Hollow did not need to shop for much. He also found it odd that there were no computer or cellular phone stores around the place. Muggles were so fond of both, he was certain that at least one or the other should be in the village somewhere. But, no; the village was dead and quiet.

As unnerved as Harry was, he knew that his parents had once chosen to live there, so it could not be all bad. It was the last place that they ever were. His heart moved into his throat and he felt tears threatening his eyes again. They burned there as he thought of his parents and Dumbledore…and Snape.

The tears were gone instantly. Harry's hand moved to his pocket and wrapped around the locket: the false horcrux that Dumbledore had died to get. He would not let Dumbledore down! As for Snape, well, Snape would just have to watch his back!

"One thing at a time." he told himself.

Ahead, Harry saw a tavern that was bustling with business. He could tell that it was so busy because the noise emanating from it contrasted boldly with the silence of the other shops. That would be the best place to find out where the graveyard was.

Straitening his shoulders, Harry walked squarely into the pub and was greeted by a whirl of noise that stopped instantly when crowd saw him in the doorway.

A great hairy man turned around in his seat and eyed Harry over the top of his tankard. The man smiled crookedly, revealing yellowed teeth and Harry returned the smile weakly. Perhaps this had been a stupid idea.

"Well don't just stand there, kid," said a thin woman from behind the bar, "Come in!"

The noise resumed abruptly as the woman glared around at them all. "Think they'd never seen a stranger before, eh kid?" she commented to Harry as he approached a bar stool and sat on it tenderly.

The hairy man beside him clapped him on the shoulder with a callused hand, "There's a good lad. Where ya from, mate? Wot's your name?"

"Uh…" said Harry (you'd think after months of planning this trip he would have come up with a good cover, but no) "Neville," he lied, "My name's Neville. I've just come in from London."

"Ow' old are you, Neville?" said the woman behind the bar, squinting at him suspiciously.

"Gah, Pen," the hairy man waved dismissively, "That's no matter around here, don't be such a stiff."

Pen sniffed and went back behind a door that Harry thought must lead to the kitchen. She did not come back out.

"Hey, how nice!" said the man, "Didn't even ask ya if ya wanted a drink."

"No," said Harry, feeling that he wanted to get out of the bar as soon as possible, "That's all right, really, I'm not here for a drink. Listen, do you know…"

"Not here for a drink? You must be very young, lad?"

"Well," said Harry, "It is my first time in a mug…I mean…a bar, a regular bar."

The hairy man raised his eye brows and smiled again. "Hey chaps!" he called out to the men behind them in the bar and everyone looked up, "We've got a first timer!"

The whole bar dropped what they were doing to crowd around Harry who was feeling distinctly hot in the face. He had not bargained on getting so much attention. What kind of a village was this anyway?

He flattened his bangs nervously and said, "Oh, well, um…I'm just here to ask if anyone knew…"

"Lad, we've got just the thing for you!" said the hairy man as he reached over the counter and grabbed a bottle and shot glass, "Always good for a first drink."

"Oh no," said Harry as politely as he could, "I don't have much money. And besides I don't want…"

But, the man had already poured the deep purple liquid into a glass and pushed it over it Harry, "Go on, Neville, this one's on the house."

"But," pleaded Harry, "I only wanted to know where…"

The men around him leaned in and stared at him, waiting for him to drink whatever it was. He stared down into the glass and felt suspicious of the drink. What was so fascinating about it? Was there something in it that he shouldn't ingest? Mad Eye Moody's face swam in Harry's inner eye and he resolved not to drink the stuff.

"No thank you." He said in a commanding voice, "But, would you please tell me where I could find the cemetery?"

Some of the men looked slightly disappointed, but the hairy man was undaunted. He laughed heartily and drank deeply from his own cup.

When he was done he said, "I'll tell you what lad. You take a swig of that and I'll tell ya all ya need to know about this village. On my honor, cross my heart, and hope to die."

Harry looked back at the shot glass. Was it worth it? The hairy man's fist blocked the label of the bottle so that he could not see it. "What is it that you want me to drink?"

The men around him laughed and the hairy man leaned in towards Harry and whispered, "It's a secret concoction; a bit of a tradition around these parts."

Harry gripped the glass and looked around at the expectant faces. _A guide, _he thought tentatively, _He could really be useful. _Harry looked down into the shot glass and sighed. With bravery worthy of a Gryffindor and foolishness worthy of a small child; everything to loose and everything to gain he lifted it and said, "Bottoms up!"

The whole room held it's breath as Harry downed the glass in one swallow!

Two seconds later he wished that he had not. It was as though liquid fire was running through his mouth and down his throat to rest in his chest before moving down to burn a hole in his stomach. He groaned inwardly, his whole body seizing up.

"Oh lad!" said a shocked voice to his right and a hand slapped his back multiple times.

Harry's eyes were watering so that he could barely see a thing, but still he managed to squeak a lie, "It's great."

The pub exploded with laughter and cheers.

"Good on ya mate!" said the hairy man, "Holy shit, when I said take a swig I didn't mean for ya to down the whole bloody shot!"

Harry coughed feebly and felt dizzy.

"Hey now, what's going on out here? Logan, he didn't drink any of that stuff did he?" Pen had emerged with a frown on her face and grabbed the bottle of purple liquid from the hairy man named Logan.

But Logan ignored her and continued to pat Harry on the back, "Ya know, Neville, you're made out of tuff stuff! You're all right, kid."

"Thanks," said Harry, recovering slowly from the effects of the drink, "But, I don't think I'm ever going to do that again."

"Well," said Logan, "It's been a long time since we've had any knew guys in here, isn't that true, Pen."

"Unfortunately," said Pen, pulling out some glasses and drying them with a rag that she kept draped over her shoulder. "Our little hollow just keeps shrinking."

"Shrinking?" asked Harry curiously, leaning on the bar with his elbows as Logan accepted another drink.

"Aye," he said, "Plenty of people move in, but they never stay long and many of the old residence have followed them."

"Or died," grimly added Pen.

Logan nodded to her, "Or died."

"But," continued Harry, "Why would people just leave like that? There must be a reason."

"Well, ever since that one couple's house exploded, nobody wanted to have anything to do with this place, did they?"

Harry's stomach tightened. He knew exactly what happened to that couple's house.

"It was the strangest thing there ever was." said Pen, narrowing her eyes as though she could somehow see through the walls of the bar to the night of the Potters' deaths, "Nobody could figure out what happened."

"Yeah," said Logan, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "The 'specialists' at first thought that it must have been a gas leak or something. But, they couldn't find any traces of gas or fire."

"On top of that," said Pen, leaning in to them, "They couldn't find any bodies."

"That's when those other fellows took over." Logan said.

"Other fellows?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, some organization that studied freak accidents kicked all the scientists, doctors, and detectives out." He laughed, "Those guys were a sight to be seen."

"Their inspection didn't last long though. They cleared up pretty fast. The fellow in charge seemed to be in a huge hurry."

"Ya know," said Logan with a furrowed brow, "I remember now, seeing him talking to some of the neighbors."

"Really," asked Harry, "Who?"

"Oh, they've all left I think," he replied, "I couldn't remember their names."

"You're just chalk full of questions, aren't you kid?" said Pen, looking at Harry.

"Well," said Harry, feeling very self conscious and flattening his bangs again, "I…"

"Ah, Pen, you're makin' him nervous."

Pen sniffed as the bar door swung open and a handsome man in his late twenties stepped in. Well, he would have been handsome if he had washed recently. His face was obscured by dirt and black soot that also covered his leather jacket and ripped jeans. His hair reminded Harry forcibly of Snape's: shoulder length, black, and greasy. The man stared at Harry through half-lidded eyes as he walked up to the counter and pulled out a cigarette.

"Who's the kid?" he asked Pen.

She replied by glaring at him, "Michael, I'm going to insist that you don't smoke in my bar."

Michael glared back and lit it defiantly, "I'm a paying customer."

Harry coughed. He did not like the smell of Michael and he was sure that the smell had not come from the dirt or the cigarette smoke. Now he was certain that he had stayed too long in the bar.

"Logan," he said and the hairy man looked over, "Do you think that you could just tell me where the cemetery is, now? I really need to get going."

"You don't want to be in the cemetery at night, kid." Michael bumped Harry's arm with his elbow.

"Is it night already?" asked Logan, looking at his watch, "Well, so it is!"

"Then I really do need to go." said Harry, getting off the stool and walking towards the door.

"Listen, Neville," said Logan, "It's a bit late, but tomorrow I'll give you the grand tour. On me honor, just as I promised. Meet me back here at about noon tomorrow, alright."

"Great!" said Harry, grateful to get away from Michael and into the fresh night air.

Stars twinkled above him as he walked back to the hotel room, a long trail of thoughts following behind him like stray dogs.

ζ

_It had to be around here somewhere. Where could it be? Shiny. Shiny. What was he looking for anyway? He wasn't sure. Shiny. _

Hermione was asleep on the couch, a book on her chest heaving up and down with each breath she took. Every five minutes or so she would stir restlessly and wake to look at the clock. "Harry's late." She would mumble before drifting off again.

Ron was bored and left with his niffler thoughts to think. They were not very deep thoughts and it would annoy him occasionally to find that he could not break away from them. Even when he was thinking as Ron the human, Ron the niffler would be there in the back, ever present and sniffing for something.

It had been sniffing for something all day and Ron could not figure out what it was. He had found several shiny things in the carpet and on the bathroom shelves, but none of them seemed to be the _right _thing.

Whatever it was that he was looking for, he knew it must be shiny.

_Shiny? Shiny? Sniff. Sniff. Shiny! No, not right. Shiny. Shiny. Sniff._

The door knob turned suddenly and Ron dived into Hermione's lap. She woke with a start and clambered to her feet, her wand already in her hand and Ron clinging to the front of her shirt. Both of them relaxed when the saw Harry enter the room with an apologetic look on his face.

"Well?" asked Hermione, "How'd it go with you."

Harry plopped down next to her on the couch and sank into the cushions. Ron hobbled over onto his lap and dug at Harry's shirt pocket.

_Did you find a horcrux?...is it shiny?_

ζ

Back in the bar, Michael had bought a drink and was sitting beside Logan on a bar stool. He wiped his greasy hair out of his face and looked over to make sure that Pen was really in the back room. Yes, he and Logan were quite alone. "So," he asked Logan in a friendly way, "Just how many drinks have you had, Logan."

"Bout'…" the great hairy man began to count on his fingers. When he was done he held up nine and said "eleven."

"Right," said Michael, lowering his voice, "And, uh, just where are you planning on taking this kid tomorrow?"

"Hm," he hiccupped, "Well, s'pose where ever he wants to go, you know? He wants to see the cemetery and I think he'd be interested in that house that s'ploded."

Michael grabbed the front of Logan's shirt and pulled him in roughly. Dropping his friendly tone entirely he hissed at Logan, "You just watch it you drunk bastard. I don't want this kid sticking his nose anywhere that he shouldn't, got it?"

Logan's red face seemed to swell with anger. "Listen, you," he hiccupped again, "I'm not stupid and we'll stay out of your way, but I wont be spoken to like that!"

Michael shoved Logan away from him and laughed, pushing his own drink towards Logan, "You won't even remember this in the morning."

"Whatever." Logan said, taking a swig.

Michael's laughter stopped abruptly and his eyes grew cold as he said, "Just checking to make sure that we're on the same page."


	4. Ch4 A Love Letter

Ch. 4  
A Love Letter

The sound of running water woke Ron from his sleep. Instead of opening his eyes, he lifted his nose into the air and sniffed which was an action he had come to find more efficient than sight on several occasions. The first thing he noticed was that Harry was not in the room and neither was Hermione. Her sweet sent was mingled farther off with the sharp smell of bath soap. She must be taking a shower and Harry had left early for the pub to meet what's-his-name. Ron's nose quivered again and he decided that neither of them had eaten breakfast. But, the innkeeper had some bacon on.

Ron opened his eyes and stretched. He had been curled up on top of an old muggle newspaper which had made a surprisingly comfortable bed.

His whiskers twitched curiously as he caught a new scent. It was coming from outside so he moved to the sliding glass door and peered out. Hedwig was sitting high up in a pine tree contentedly chewing on a mouse she caught the night before and Pig was snoozing a few branches below her. There was still no sign of Crookshanks, but something was coming towards him from above the trees: a black owl. But, it didn't smell like an owl. Even through the glass and ten feet away Ron could smell the potent perfume coming off the letter the bird had in its beak.

The owl landed and folded his wings on the concrete patio directly in front of Ron. It tapped its beak violently against the glass and screeched loudly as Hedwig peered down from her perch disapprovingly. The creature seemed eager to get rid of its scented dispatch.

The din was growing louder and Ron's quills were standing on end. _Just drop it on the doorstep you dumb bird, _he thought with growing panic. Hermione was in the shower and there was nothing he could do for the owl. What if the innkeeper came back and kicked them all out? He missed being tall and having thumbs.

Just when he thought the owl was going to stay and screech at him forever, it gave up and flapped away hurriedly leaving the perfumed letter lying face up on the concrete. Before reading the name on the envelope Ron knew who it was for and who it was from. _So, Krum soaks his letters in perfume_, Ron snorted and wriggled his nose in disgust, _You'd never know he was that kind of bloke from looking at his picture. He comes off as all surly and manly, but I bet he's worse than Percy._

Ron could hear Hermione humming faintly underneath the roar of the shower water. They had all agreed that they would not receive owls while they were in Godric's Hollow because they did not want anyone to know where they were. So why had Krum sent one then?

Suddenly Ron stood blot upright! A key was turning in the lock and their door was opening, but it was not Harry. He raced under the sofa as quickly as he could before the innkeeper stepped into the room.

"That's it!" he boomed, "I've had it with you! I'm getting complaints now of screaming, howling, filthy animals!"

The gruff man glanced around the room with his hands on his hips and realized that the only person in the tiny suite was in the shower and completely deaf to his ranting. As the man stood there, Ron looked at the open door and had an idea.

Before the innkeeper could turn and leave again, Ron dashed out the door and down the hall. Luckily, the front door to the inn was also open and he was able to slip around to the back unseen.

There was only one patio at the back of the inn, so finding Hermione's letter was easy enough. _That stupid prat, Krum, and his stupid love letters, _he thought. Ron felt no guilt as he ripped open the envelope with his teeth and watched Krum's letter unfold to reveal a slip of cardboard on which was printed an extremely fancy invitation. That was where the strong perfume had been coming from. He wondered if it was his enhanced niffler sense of smell that made the sent so potent. He could hardly read it as his beady eyes watered.

Miss Hermione Granger  
is cordially invited to this years  
Bulgarian Midsummer Ball  
by Lady Anastasia Krum II

The festivities will be held at the distinguished house of Krum on August the 28th at 8:00 p.m. This is an event sponsored by the noble house of Krum and Departments of Magical Cooperation from all around the world. On this night distinguished witches and wizards from around the world come together for a night of dancing and fellowship. In these dark times we must unite and show support for one another.

Send a letter of confirmation back with the owl to verify that you have received your invitation. Invitation required for admittance.

Lady Anastasia Krum! Hermione had met Victor's distinguished grandmother? Ron could feel his ears turning red. The thought of Hermione at another ball with Victor Krum was maddening. He remembered them dancing together at the Yule Ball; how she smiled at him and looked so beautiful. _Not that I want to dance with her,_ he thought as he shook his quills, _I'm a terrible dancer and I'm really just looking out for my friend. Right? Krum's a horrible person and Hermione, who thinks she knows it all, just can't see it._

He pushed the invitation aside and glanced down the letter:

Dearest Hermione,

I know you told me not to send you any owls this summer, but my grandmother was so persistent in getting you this invitation that I could hardly tell her that you did not want any owls. Plus, there is something that I think you should know. I apologize for the perfume, but it helps our owls get through the postal watch. They know not to open the scented letters because it means they are important messages from my grandmother. Things are not going too well up here. But it is impossible to explain such a thing through a letter.

Dearest, I have something that I need to tell you about your birthday present that I…

Ron did not bother to read the rest. He took the letter and buried it deep underground so that the perfume would not rise to haunt him.

Thinking about how Krum's gift sparkled in Hermione's hair made him feel strange. She had not worn the hair piece since they had met in Diagon Alley five days ago. Ron was not sure if she had looked through his present yet. The book had seemed like something that would interest her when he saw it on display in Flourish and Blot's. She was always reading things like that and he loved to watch her read them. It was fascinating to him to see her flipping through books, absorbing information like some sort of brilliant, bushy brown sponge. He loved how her expression would change ever so slightly as she read: the corners of her mouth twitching up to a smile or the tiny crease that formed between her brows when she was thinking over a puzzle.

_Stupid Krum…_

ζ

"And this," said Logan, spreading his arms proudly, "Is our cemetery."

_Finally, _thought Harry. They had been walking around Godric's Hollow for over five hours going everywhere, but where Harry wanted to go.

"It's lovely," said Harry as he weaved through the maze of monuments and tombstones.

It was a lovely cemetery. Mossy spring grass spread itself across the plot, only a few recently dug graves were not wrapped in the bright green vegetation. Throughout the cemetery weeping willows were placed and the sun shining down through their branches cast a dappled light over the graves. Little winged warblers sang to the dead from that drooped canopy. There was something joyous about the sorrow of this place.

"Don't know why you would want to come here, Neville," said Logan, scratching his beard, "there aren't any Longbottoms in our cemetery."

Harry was not listening. He was looking from tombstone to tombstone for his parents' graves and he found them. They lay side by side directly beside the grandest willow in the place. They shared a marble tombstone that was plagued with a net of vines. Clearing away the vegetation, Harry could see that nothing special was written on it, only their names and the day they died.

He did not know what he had expected to find there. Maybe a clue as to what the horcrux was or some sort of directions telling him what to do next. Why had he thought that coming to see his parents graves would sort everything out and provide all the answers?He put his back to the stone and leaned back against it.

Bringing his knees up and resting his forehead against them, Harry felt tears threatening his eyes. They welled up in the corners and sat there burning as he tried to hold them back. There was no one to hand him the solution anymore. Dumbledore was dead, Sirius was dead, and his parents had always been dead. Somehow he thought that there would always be someone out there for him to guide him and protect him, but that time was over now.

Down the street Logan was sitting at a bus stop drinking beer. Harry liked Logan, even though he was easily distracted and difficult to get information from. He was grateful that Logan had left him alone.

Harry got up, dusted off his pants, and took a last look at his parents final resting place. He was an adult in a dangerous situation and _he_ had to work out a solution. So much depended on him and he did not even know where to start looking.

ζ

"Ron! How on earth did you get outside?"

Hermione came out of the bathroom frowning, wrapped in a towel, and dripping wet. She was holding her wand which she looked ready to chuck across the room. She opened the door for him and he crawled inside cautiously, being careful to look anywhere but at her naked legs.

She seemed embarrassed as she grabbed her cloths from her bag and dashed back into the bathroom. When she came out she was fully dressed, but wearing the same frown as before.

"My wand is broken, Ron!" she said, collapsing onto the sofa, "I can't imagine what's happened, but it won't work. I tried to summon my cloths from the bathroom and after about ten minutes of standing there I realized that there has to be something wrong with it!"

She looked down at Ron, "You know, I've been thinking about taking you to the Ministry. They would know what to do for you and now I need to get my wand tuned in London. Oh dear, what am I going to do? Now that Mr. Olivander is missing, I'll have to find a different place."

Ron scrambled up the leg of the sofa to sit beside her. Sniffing her wand he didn't smell anything funny about it. _But_, he supposed, _you can't really smell magic, can you?_


End file.
